Inspired by guests on the TWIP family podcast, I made the first half of my 365 project into a book, using Blurb. The quality was excellent except for a small white line (some sort of printing error?) in the same place on every left-hand page. When I contacted Blurb, their customer service was very responsive. They immediately printed another copy and sent it via expedited shipping.
So, now we have a copy for me to keep on my shelf and a copy for the children to put their paws all over — which is really the point after all!
It’s Monday morning, and Ellen and I are assembling our neighbor’s garden share. The dwindling strawberries are small and sweet. I fill a quart and Ellen fills her tummy.
Together, we meander into the side garden and I snap off just a few remaining garlic scapes and collect a handful of chamomile flowers for tea. Ellen picks the first of the kale. Kale! My favorite! We have cilantro in abundance, radishes, and three varieties of choi.
And then we go out with a vase and clippers, to collect flowers. Gathering the garden share is one of my favorite weekly rituals.
(Jenny and I have talked about photos that are “just gifts.” This is one of those.)
I am at the library, in the photography section, attempting to look at books while wrangling my crawling, pulling-up, grabbing, busy little 8-month-old boy. A volunteer librarian is helping me. Well, she is trying to help me. I am listening with half an ear as she points out various books and I hold my baby and remember where my girls are too. Did I leave them in the children’s section? I look over my shoulder and there is Ellen sitting in the widow, looking at a book she picked out, titled, “The Tiny Little Baby.” She is beautiful: framed in light, deep in concentration.
I grab my bag, pull it towards me, and reach for my camera. I fumble around, adjusting my ISO, my aperture, my shutter speed — with camera in one hand, wiggling baby in the other. I can barely hear the librarian, now pointing out nature photography books, a couple of aisles away. I click the shutter once, twice. Three times and Wallace starts wailing. The camera goes back in my bag. I scoop him up and follow the sound of the still chattering librarian. “Are you looking for ‘how to’ photography books or ‘photography as art’ books?” she asks me, apparently oblivious to the photographic feat just accomplished behind her back, a mere six feet away.
“Hmm . . . ” I reply, smiling to myself as I gather my children and head for the door. “Thank you for your help. We’ll come back soon — when I have a little more time to browse.”